


Moving Forward

by romanticalgirl



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 1/9/00</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. I'll Stop the World

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 1/9/00

“Hello?”

Doyle pulled away from the phone as if it had bit him. “Hello?” 

“Hello.” 

Looking over at Cordelia, he pointed at the receiver. “I thought you said the Watcher was a stuffy, British guy.” 

“He is.” 

“Hello?” The soft, distinctly feminine voice came from the receiver. 

Cordelia laughed. “It’s Willow. Say hello, Doyle.” 

Clearing his throat, Doyle held the phone back up. “Er, sorry there, Doll. Hello. I’m…er…”

“Doyle?” Willow asked with a giggle. “Did you need to talk to Giles?” 

“What?” Doyle shook his head. What was going wrong with him? He’d never been at such a loss from a woman’s voice, not even during his brief distraction with Cordelia. “Er…yeah. Um…no. If you could just let him know that we’re going to be in town this weekend. Me and Cordelia, that is. Angel is staying to keep the nights safe for the unsuspecting. Or something like that. Me, I think he’s gonna brood about something and he just wants to do it in peace and quiet.” 

Willow giggled again, a soft, simple sound that sent a trickle of something down his spine. “All right. Do you need a place to stay? We could arrange something.” 

“Nah, not necessary. I know a guy who knows a guy.” 

“All right. We’ll see you this weekend.” 

“All right. Wait! You don’t know what I look like.” 

Smiling at his rushed, breathless words, Willow giggled once more. “I’m going to guess you’ll be the one with Cordelia.” 

“Cordelia. Right.” Doyle nodded, feeling foolish. “I’ll see you this weekend.” 

“Bye Doyle.” 

He stared at the receiver after she hung up, unaware of Cordelia’s gaze on him, her eyebrows raised in question. “See you this weekend? Very suave.” 

“Willow, huh?” He finally hung up the phone, turning back to the desk and refocusing his thoughts. “She’s the quiet one, right? The bookworm?” 

“Well, she used to be. Then she got a boyfriend, stopped dressing like a Sears poster child, stole my boyfriend and became a witch. Not exactly your typical bookworm.” 

Doyle sat on the chair, propping his feet up on the edge of her desk. “She cute?” 

“She has her moments. You really think someone who wasn’t good looking could have stolen Xander away from me? Not that her looks are better than mine,” she went on. “They’d been friends since the dawn of time, she had the edge.” 

“They still together?” 

Cordelia shook her head. “They never were, except for the little fling they had. She went back to her boyfriend and Xander and I started dismembering each other…verbally.” 

“And the boyfriend?” Doyle’s voice was a mixture of annoyance and amusement. She was doing this on purpose, he was sure of it. Maybe she did have an emotion or two for him buried deep beneath all the hostility. “They still together?” 

“I don’t think so. You’ve met him, you know. Oz.” 

“The werewolf?” His voice rose an octave. “You could have mentioned that!” 

“Why?” Cordelia’s look was all innocence. “Did you have plans to seduce our little Willow?” 

“Seduce?” Another octave. “I just thought the girl sounded interesting. “I tell ya, how does a man get rid of such a vile reputation as the one I’ve got?” 

“Stop being a lazy, cheating, gambling, whoring half demon?” Cordelia suggested. 

“Right. Like that’s gonna happen.” Doyle dropped his feet to the floor. “Where’s Angel?” 

“Downstairs. Moping. Brooding. Something that ends with an –ing.” 

“Fine. I’ll be there then.” 

“Fantasize…” Cordelia smirked at him, her eyes alight with humor. “Ing?” 

***

Angel looked up as the gate to the elevator opened. Doyle walked in, settling into the seat across the table from him. “All right, I need some help here.” 

“I don’t know where you can find x-ray glasses to look through Cordelia’s clothing.” 

Doyle pursed his lips as Angel turned back to his book. “Very funny. But I’m serious, man. I need some advice.” 

“Just ask her.” 

“Damn it, it’s not about Cordelia.” 

Angel looked up, curiosity piqued. “It’s not?” When Doyle shook his head, he put the book down. “But it’s about a girl?” 

“Yah.” 

“Do I know this girl?” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

Angel’s eyes widened. “Kate?” 

“Good lord, no! That woman would chew me up and spit me out! I…it’s…”

“It’s Willow,” Cordelia offered from the stairs. “He’s heard her bewitching voice and now he’s smitten.” 

“I’m not smitten,” Doyle scoffed. “I’m just curious about people I don’t know.” 

“Usually only if they owe you money,” Angel reminded him. “So, Willow, huh? And you’re meeting her this weekend. And Xander. You’ll meet Xander. I wonder what kind of lovely nicknames he’ll come up with for you.” 

“Yeah, Xander’s kind of particular about his best friends dating people who aren’t entirely human. Although he’s dating a girl who used to be a demon with a bad complexion, so I don’t think he should have a say.” 

“You really shouldn’t talk bad about yourself,” Doyle threw in, watching in delight as Cordelia got angry. Her face flushed and she turned away, stomping back up the stairs in her new sandals. “She’s really almost too easy a target.” 

“Almost.” Angel nodded. He leaned back in his chair, watching Doyle. “Willow’s nice. She’s a great girl…woman, I suppose. But she’s also…she’s not worldly, whatever Cordelia may have said about what happened in high school. She’s not in your league, Doyle.” 

“I just thought she sounded nice.” He got up from the chair and went to the elevator. “I’ve got no designs on the girl.” 

Angel watched him go, a small smile on his lips. “Right. I believe you.” 

***

Willow opened the door of Giles’ apartment and grinned widely. “Cordelia!” She hugged the other girl. “You must be tired from the drive. I made Giles buy something other than tea. Thirsty?” 

“Yeah.” Cordelia looked past Willow. “Xander here?” 

“In the kitchen, where else?” She grinned. “Help yourself. Buffy and Giles are out buying some weapons, they’ll be back in a while.” 

“Oz here?” 

Willow’s face fell slightly. “No. Oz left.” She stepped back to let Cordelia in and noticed the dark haired man standing behind her. “You must be Doyle. Since you’re with Cordelia.” 

“At yer service.” He tipped his head, his blue eyes locked on her green ones. “You look like ye belong at home. Nestled near the hearth telling fairy tales.” 

“Leprechauns and fairies?” Willow smiled. “I’m afraid I’m Jewish, not Irish.” 

Without thinking, Doyle reached out and took her chin in his hand, tilting her head, rubbing the silky skin with his thumb. “Your skin’s like cream.” 

Willow reached up and placed her hand on his arm, staring into his eyes. Shock waves seemed to rocket through her at his touch, overwhelming her. She tilted her head, curious at the sensation. He met her gaze, not wanting or willing to look away. Willow leaned forward, moving closer to him, her body swaying forward as if in response to some call. She was about to say something when suddenly, Doyle fell forward, dragging her down with him. She rolled away, desperate to get clear of him as he thrashed on the floor. 

Cordelia grabbed her and pulled her away from Doyle. Breaking free of her grasp, Willow moved back in and caught his arm, holding him as he writhed. Finally, he lay still, his eyes closed as his breathing slowed back to normal. 

“You make quite an entrance,” she said softly. 

“Scotch? Whiskey? Vodka?” He asked, struggling to sit up. 

Willow looked back and Cordelia was already there with a glass of amber liquid. “Careful. Giles has the good stuff.” 

Doyle tossed it back, coughing as it burned. “Not good enough.” He took the paper Cordelia held out to him. Scribbling on it quickly, he handed it back. “Call him. I guess we’re heading back home.” 

“You just got here,” Willow said sadly. “Something big?” 

He nodded. “But that’s not all.” Wide green eyes met his, sending a wave of heat through him. “You need to come too.” 

“To LA?” 

“You were in the vision too, Doll. You’re essential.” 

“I don’t like being essential. I like being needed but not necessary. Please?” 

“Pack a bag.” He tried to smile, sensing the fear in her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“Neither will Angel,” Cordelia reminded them both. “You’ll be fine Willow. And if you don’t mind a ghost, you can stay with me.” 

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Let me tell Xander, pack some clothes and we’ll go. Probably don’t want to tell Buffy or Giles until after the fact. They might not agree to let me go.” She grinned ruefully. “They’re a little overprotective.” 

“Right. We’ll call ‘em on the road. Cordy? You stay here while I go with her to get her things? Spend some time with Xander?” 

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. “Right.” Waiting until Willow moved away to get her purse, Cordelia lowered her voice. “Just remember she doesn’t know what you are. And I do.” 

“And what would telling her accomplish?” 

“Just quit with the Xander cracks, okay?” 

Doyle nodded, smiling thinly. “You must still quite like him if they bother you.” 

“Hey Willow,” Cordelia said loudly, “Did you know Doyle is half demon?” 

***

The ride to Willow’s dorm was silent, save for her instructions. Doyle stared straight ahead, not wanting to see her face. When he pulled in front of her house, she turned to him. “It’s okay.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t care.” 

He looked at her. “Don’t care about what?” 

Willow held up her hand and raised a finger for each sentence. “Point. My last boyfriend was a werewolf. Point. My best friend’s boyfriend was one of the most vicious killers of all time. Point. My other best friend is dating a woman who used to avenge women who had been wronged. So, meeting a half demon doesn’t bother me.” 

“You ever seen a half demon?” 

She shook her head. “Nope. A couple of full demons, a lot of vampires, a Hellmouth, a werewolf, and a few other big bad things, but not a half-demon.” 

He smiled, his irritation draining away. “You’re a nice person.” 

“Yeah. It’s my curse.” She nodded. “I’m doomed.” 

A brief flash of his vision clouded his mind. “Go get your things, Doll. I’ll wait for you here.” 

***

“So, we’re going to need a witch,” Doyle finished summarizing what he remembered of his vision. “It’s a pretty powerful coven, but with Angel’s history with spells and you’re power…You’re quite likely to do us a good turn.” 

“I should warn you that not all of my spells go the way I plan them. I sort of…” Willow looked away, flushing with embarrassment. “I sort of have a friend who is still a rat. I can’t quite get her de-ratted. I’m afraid she’s going to be really mad at me when I do.” 

“Amy’s still a rat?” Cordelia asked from the driver’s seat. “Wow. I hope she likes cheese.” 

Doyle placed his hand on Willow’s, giving Cordelia a dirty look in the rear view mirror. “Don’t worry about it, Doll. I doubt there will be any rat issues comin’ up.” 

She smiled, a small laugh sneaking out. Tilting her head, Willow looked intently at Doyle. “You’re not what I expected from Cordelia’s emails.” 

“She talked about me?” Doyle raised his eyebrows. “And I didn’t think she cared.” He ignored the look Cordelia sent him in the mirror, instead focusing on Willow. “What did you expect?” 

“Well, I thought you might be more of a jerk. She said you were a lot like Xander on his worst days.” Willow smiled more widely. “Of course, our opinions of Xander’s worst days are a little different. To me, they’re whenever I would walk on them kissing. To her, I think I’m more in the culprit spot.” 

“Oh no. I’m completely over that,” Cordelia stated. “Xander’s worst days are more along the lines of when he would make jokes about everything, especially when you were trying to have a serious conversation with him." 

Willow shrugged and nodded. “Okay, we do have the same opinion of Xander’s worst days.” Looking back at Doyle, she reached over and touched his hand. “So far, you’ve completely blown my preconceived notions out of the water.” 

He turned his hand over so that her fingers grazed his palm. As she touched him, soft and simple, a flash of pain slammed through Doyle, accompanying another vision. He jerked back, slamming his head into the window. He cried out and slumped down into his seat. 

“Grab the bottle under the front seat,” Cordelia said tersely. “Quick. He’s going to need it.” 

Willow did as she asked, watching helplessly as Doyle continued to suffer. “Do they always come like this?” 

“Not so often usually. Something big must be brewing down in LA. Got your seatbelt on?” Cordelia didn’t even wait for Willow to answer before she pressed her foot hard on the gas. Doyle groaned, as he was slammed forward into her seat, ending up hunched between the two seats. 

“Christ, Cordelia. I’m sufferin’ enough, ain’t I?” He struggled his way back up onto the seat and took the bottle from Willow’s outstretched hand. Cracking the seal on it, he swallowed half of it, grimacing all the while. “This is the last time I let Angel buy the booze. He’s got no taste.” 

“What did you see?” 

“Just a little more detail. We need to get home, right away.” He watched Willow out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he was doing the right thing. “Hey Red?” 

“Yes?” 

Doyle lowered his voice. “We need to talk. I haven’t been…completely honest.” 

“Now?” 

“As soon as we get to the office.” He managed a weak smile. “You might want a little privacy.” 

***

Angel was standing in the doorway when Doyle’s car squealed to stop in front of the building. Willow and Doyle climbed out and Cordelia took off again. “You let her drive your car?” 

“I needed to tell Willow a bit about what was going on.” He shrugged. “She was good, for the most part. And by the time she wasn’t, she wasn’t at my request.” 

Angel nodded and turned his attention to Willow. “Hello.” 

“Hi Angel.” She stepped forward and hugged him shyly. He stood still for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and hugging her in return. Pulling back, she grinned. “Do you have a restroom?” 

“Right this way,” he said with a laugh. He guided her through the office and down into his apartment, noting with amusement that Doyle was right on her heels. When Willow closed the door behind her, Doyle grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. 

“We’re in trouble, Boss.” 

“What?” Angel’s amusement faded immediately. “What’s the problem?” 

“Her.” Doyle gestured back to the bathroom. “She was in the vision I had in Sunnydale, and I promise it wasn’t the kind of vision I wanted to have with her in it.” He sank down on a chair. “She’s in danger.” 

“Then why bring her here?” 

“Because we need her help.” 

“Is helping us putting her in danger?” Angel’s voice lowered. 

“No. Well, yes and no. There’s a coven of witches, working some bad mojo. They’re looking to do some serious damage. If we defeat them now, she’ll be in a bit of danger helping us fight them. But if she’s not here, they’re gonna win their fight with us and go after her. And then she’ll have no one to help her.” 

“So this is the lesser of two evils?” Angel nodded. “Did you tell her any of this?” 

Doyle looked sheepish. “Nah.” 

“Doyle.” 

“It’s okay,” Willow said from the hallway. “I kind of suspected I was the key to all of this.” She walked in and sat between them. “Buffy’s been having dreams too. They’re vague right now, but every time she wakes up, she comes over and makes sure I’m okay. I thought I might be headed for trouble.” 

“I’m sorry, Willow.” 

She smiled her thanks at Angel. “It’s okay. I’m hoping that I can help and not just get captured or something.” 

“So, she’s staying here?” Angel asked Doyle. 

Doyle tried to suppress the unexpected surge of jealousy that flared up in him. The thought of Willow, alone here with Angel…hell, alone with anyone filled him with annoyance. “I…I suppose. This place is as secure as any.” 

“Actually,” Angel gave him a small smile, almost as if he could read Doyle’s thoughts. “With the sewer entrance and the office being open all day, it might be better if she stayed somewhere a little more secure.” Smiling even more at Doyle’s hopeful look, he went on. “Although at your place, she would be at risk of every bill collector and every thug or goon sent to squeeze a little money out of everyone’s favorite debtor.” 

“Hey! I’ve got most of the money I owe paid back.” 

“But at Cordelia’s she doesn’t have anyone to watch over her, except a completely cowed ghost. What if you and she both stay at Cordelia’s? I kind of like the thought of you having a chaperone.” 

“Me or him?” Willow asked. 

Angel grimaced, having forgotten Willow was in the room. “Him. You, I trust.” 

“Won’t Cordy mind?” 

“I’ll ask her sweetly,” Doyle muttered, getting out of his chair and heading up the stairs. Angel watched him go with an amused grin. 

“You like torturing him.” 

“It’s a good kind of torture,” Angel said softly, wondering if he was doing the right thing, allowing Doyle to spend time alone with Willow. 

“He’s a good friend?” 

“About what I deserve,” Angel admitted. He turned his gaze to Willow. “How is she?” 

“Surviving. Getting better. There are days…well, every day I’ll look over and see a sadness in her eyes, but it doesn’t hold her down like it used to. She’ll never be over you, but she’s trying hard to move on.” 

“Good,” he sighed. “I…”

“I know. She still loves you too.” Willow stood up and looked around. “This is nice. Dark, but nice. I guess dark is nice for you.” Taking a deep breath, she faced him. “What…is Doyle okay? Someone I can trust through all this?” 

“Yeah,” Angel didn’t pause. 

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “Good.” 

“I wouldn’t trust you with anyone I didn’t trust implicitly.” 

“Thanks Angel.” 

Doyle smiled to himself as he crept up the last few stairs to actually complete his mission and talk to Cordelia. Angel trusted him, which meant Willow did. And if she could trust the vampire that had once held her lovely neck up to his fangs, well…odds were good that she could trust a half demon with less than completely honorable intentions. 

***

“I can’t believe you have to stay at my apartment,” Cordelia groaned. “You’re a slob.” 

“I am not! I’ve got a perfectly neat apartment. Besides, you forget I saw where you lived before this, ducks.” 

“Right.” Cordelia snapped her mouth closed, effectively killing the subject. “So, Willow, I guess you can sleep in the spare bedroom and Doyle can sleep on the couch. But tonight, you guys are on your own. I have a date and I’m not going to break it just to baby-sit.” 

“Don’t worry, Cordy, I can take care of her.” 

“I can take good care of myself,” Willow reminded him. And herself, her mind whispered. “And you should have fun on your date, Cordelia. I’ve got a spell or two up my sleeve if Doyle gets out of hand.” 

Cordelia smiled and pulled into her parking spot. “Okay, here are the keys. I’m so late, so you’re going to have to let yourselves in. And remember, don’t invite any vampires in, it’s tough to get the dust out of the carpet. And Dennis doesn’t vacuum.” 

“Dennis?” Willow asked. 

“My ghost roommate. I mentioned him.” 

“Right.” Willow nodded and climbed out of the car. “We’ll see you later.” 

Doyle took the keys from her hand and led her to Cordelia’s apartment. Swinging the door open for her, he took her bag and guided the way to the guest bedroom. “This was Dennis’ room, but I’m sure if we ask nicely, he’ll close his eyes when you’re changin’.” 

“Dennis is nice, right?” 

“Oh sure. The boy’s as whipped as can be. Cowed by his Ma and then Cordelia. You barely even have to raise your voice.” He sat down on the side of the bed. “So, Red. What say you and I do a little brainstorming and see if we can come up with a plan?” 

“Why don’t you tell me what you saw?” Willow sat next to him, her hand brushing his. “In your vision.” 

Doyle stood up immediately, pacing the small room. “They’re not visions so much as flashes of information. Faces, names, places. It’s like a download of nouns. There’s never any real insight as to what’s going wrong or what’s going to happen. It’s just…it’s nothing much, especially for all the pain that come along with ‘em.” 

“What did you see this time?” 

“You,” he admitted. 

“Just me?” Willow tilted her head, smiling slightly. “Me in danger? Me kicking demon ass? Me…”

“Well, I’d like to say it was you in sexy lingerie, but I’m never that lucky.” 

Willow blushed and looked away from him. “Well, as I don’t actually own anything that could be construed as sexy lingerie, I think that’s a good thing. So, what was I doing?” 

“Dying.” 

“Oh.” Her voice seemed small, even to her own ears. 

“I saw you, bleeding…cut open. Then I saw a gathering of faces, dark and foreboding, I guess you could say. Then I saw a nightclub and a symbol.” 

“A symbol?” 

He pulled a small book out of his pocket. “I nabbed this from Angel’s. I doubt he’ll miss it until I tell him about it tomorrow, but I thought there was no point in us sitting around doing nothing tonight.” He thumbed through the pages until he found the one he wanted. Handing it to her, he watched her eyes as she looked at the picture then read the caption. 

“That doesn’t bode well, does it?” 

“It means sacrifice.” 

“I read that.” 

“It means a blood debt.” Doyle took the book from her trembling hands. “It means that someone thinks you owe your life for a promise you or one of your ancestors made. It means…”

“It means I’m going to die.” 

Doyle set the book on the bed and knelt before her. “Nah, Red. It doesn’t mean that. It just means that we need to figure out what’s going on and do what we can to fix it.” He took her hands and looked up into her green eyes. “It’s a coven of renegade witches, delving into sorcery more powerful than your average Wicca. It’s…”

“How do you know that if all you saw was their faces?” 

“Well, that sort of brings us to the reason I know about the symbol as well. One of the faces…one of the people after you, is ah…sort of an ex-girlfriend of mine. I sort of made her a promise that I didn’t keep and I had to face this thing too.” 

“But you’re alive.” 

“Yah. But you don’t want to know…well; let’s just say they got their blood. Only the fact that I’m part demon saved me. And since you,” he reached out and touched her cheek, brushing his thumb along the creamy skin. “Are most definitely all human, I’d rather they didn’t take their pound of flesh…or internal organs in this case.” 

“Do you think your ex-girlfriend would tell you why they were after me?” 

“Probably, but I doubt I could get the information back to you after she cut off my head, which she’s likely to do if she sees me again.” 

“Oh.” 

“But we do have an advantage.” 

“We do?” Willow looked skeptical. “Other than the fact that you still have a head?” 

“Yeah. You see, you’re a witch. The power you’ve got…it radiates off you, especially to a non-human entity. Not like a beacon or anything, more like an aura. We’re gonna put you in a situation where they can see that. That’s going to make them think twice, wonder if they can get you to settle the promise or, if not that, come over to their side. Which is where the nightclub comes in.” 

“The nightclub?” 

“From my vision.” 

“Right.” Willow nodded. “Am I supposed to be following all of this?” 

“The nightclub is their hangout. It’s where they go for new recruits, using their power to sway women to their side and wield their power over men. It’s sort of like a haven for sexual brokering. They’ve got the power and they use it, ya know what I mean?” 

“Not at all.” 

Doyle sighed. “Red, you’re gorgeous, but this innocent act can be a bitch.” 

“It’s not an act.” 

“That’s why it’s a bitch.” He got to his feet and left the room. Willow followed him after a few minutes. He was staring into the fireplace. When she was about to touch him, he turned. “All women have power. With men, the power usually manifests itself in the ability to arouse us, turn us on. You just move or talk or touch and we’re helpless as a newborn. You’ve got it in spades, simply because you’re so unaware of it.” 

The hand she had outstretched to touch his shoulder before he turned fell to her side. “So I go to this nightclub and act oblivious to the fact that men want me and they come after me trying to capture me or convert me?” 

“Well, that would be convenient, but I don’t think it’s quite right.” He moved away from her, sitting on the couch. “You see, the innocent thing only works on men. Women think you’re going for the cheap score. So you’re going to have to come across as someone who knows she’s got the power and ain’t afraid to use it.” 

“And so we’re going to find someone else to play my part?” 

“You mean to tell me,” Doyle leaned forward. “That you have no idea that you’re beautiful? You’ve got no clue that you’re sexy? You’re completely oblivious to the fact that men stare after you when you walk by?” 

Willow blushed and shook her head. “The only guy that ever looked at me was Oz. Well, and Xander for a little while, but no one else.” 

“Then you’re as blind as you think they are,” Doyle stated strongly. “All right, if you can’t find your own confidence, we’ll make you up a batch.” 

“What?” 

He stood and took her arm, guiding her to the guestroom. “Nothing. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Get a good night’s sleep.” He looked around the room sternly. “And Dennis? No peeking.” 

Shutting the door behind him, Doyle leaned against it, forcing his breathing to slow. Touching her, thinking about her all dressed up and actually, deliberately trying to seduce someone had elevated his blood pressure and sent the demon in his blood racing through his veins. 

This little witch was going to be far more dangerous to him than any coven of witches were likely to be to her. 

***

“I’m tellin’ ya, Angel man, the girl is completely clueless when it comes to her feminine wiles. There’s no way she can pull this off on her own.” 

“The spell is dangerous.” 

“The spell is as harmless as a darker shade of lipstick and a bit shorter skirt.” 

“And where you’re concerned, that’s dangerous.” 

“I’m not the one she’s goin’ after. She’s not goin’ after anyone, as a matter of fact. She’s just gonna be dancin’ with Cordelia.” 

“Trying to turn on every man in the place.” 

“That’s why you and I are goin’ ta be there to escort ‘em home.” 

Angel looked up from the symbol. “No.” 

“Angel, if she doesn’t get in their good graces and give them the opportunity to change their minds, she’s going to end up short a few things she’s gonna be needin’ to keep livin’.” 

“You don’t even know if this coven is going to be willing to forgive and forget. Or forgive and brainwash. No.” 

“But…”

“The answer is no.” 

“I want to do it.” Willow walked into Angel’s office. “I don’t want to be scared, Angel. I want it finished. And you and Doyle can protect me. And I can protect myself too.” 

“Willow…”

“If I don’t do this now, they’ll keep hunting for me. And when they find me, I might not have anyone like you or Doyle…or Buffy around to save me.” 

Doyle raised an eyebrow at Buffy’s name. She was bringing out the big guns. Angel sighed. “If you get hurt…”

“I know you won’t let anyone hurt me.” She sat on the edge of his desk. “I trust you to take care of me. You’ve saved my life before, why shouldn’t I put myself in your hands?” 

“Because I’ve tried to sink my teeth into your neck?” 

Jealousy surged through Doyle once more. Angel had threatened to kill her and she trusted him. She was willing to put her life in his hands. She was practically begging him to watch over her. Standing up, Doyle pictured Willow in a short skirt, make-up and a clingy blouse, dancing with Cordelia in a smoky club. He bit back a groan at the image, turning to look at Angel. 

Bastard was grinning from ear to ear, and Doyle knew he’d heard him. “Maybe it’s not such a good plan, Willow,” he started. 

“That wasn’t you, Angel. Stop trying to take credit for it.” She turned to Doyle, her green eyes innocent of the knowledge of what he’d been thinking. She smiled at him and he knew that he had no choice. “So, tell me about your ex-girlfriend and we’ll start planning strategy.” 

***

“No.” 

“Cordelia, don’t you want to help?” Doyle’s eyes pleaded with her. “I know that it goes against everythin’ in your personal code of conduct. I know that you’re so straight and narrow you’d never even think of tryin’ to deceive someone. But these are the bad guys. We’re allowed to lie to them.” 

“You don’t want me to lie,” she reminded him. “You want me to act like a slut.” 

“And how’s that different than trying to sell yerself to the man with the biggest wallet?” Doyle asked, exasperated. “I’m asking for you, for one night, to put aside the latest CEO of the month and help out an old friend. Be the good guy…or girl as the case may be.” 

“Does Willow know what you want? Because I just can’t see her agreeing to this.” 

“That’s the other part where you come in handy.” 

“Oh no. NO. You’re not going to make me do this. You want me to tell her too? That’s not lying to the bad guys, Doyle…Francis. That’s…that’s…”

“What?” He asked, ignoring her mention of his first name. “It’s helping the girl stay alive.” 

“You sure you’re not just trying to get your jollies off watching us?” 

“Positive.” His voice quivered slightly and Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so I’m a man. I admit that, but that’s not why we’re doin’ it. I mean, Angel’s gonna be there.” 

“Not during the rehearsal.” 

“Well,” Doyle wracked his brain, trying to think of the right thing to say. “You won’t either. I mean, except for tomorrow. Tonight, you can do whatever you want and I’ll ease her into it.” 

“Into what?” Cordelia gave him a knowing look. 

“The thing…the strategy of what we’re going to do.” 

Shaking her head, Cordelia grabbed her purse. “Well, you do that, Doyle. Ease her into it. But tonight, when I come home, don’t expect me to extract the pencil you’re liable to have sticking out of your gut should you try anything.” 

“Right,” he said to the closed door, as it slammed shut behind her. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

***

Willow sat on the edge of the couch, looking up at Doyle and Angel with wide, unbelieving eyes. “This is your strategy?” 

“Well, I mentioned that they’re into power, right?” 

“Power? Since when has that been synonymous with lesbianism?” 

“I’m not askin’ ya to be a lesbian.” Doyle looked to Angel for help, sneering at the vampire when he saw his wide grin. “Ya just have ta dance with Cordy. For a while.” 

“Dance. As in dance or….” Willow wrinkled her brow. “Like…a sexy dance?” 

“Both?” Doyle asked. 

“I don’t dance. I can waltz. Giles taught me that. And I can…well, what Xander taught me isn’t important. And Oz and I…well, I can’t do *that* with Cordelia. We’d look stupid.” 

“We’re gonna teach ya.” 

Willow looked to Angel for guidance, just as annoyed as Doyle when she saw his smile. “Don’t you have someone to rescue or something?” 

“I thought I was here in case you needed rescuing.” He tried to suppress his smile and failed miserably. “But if you don’t…”

“Go away,” Doyle and Willow chorused in unison. 

Angel shrugged and left the room, throwing a smile back in Doyle’s direction. The half demon ignored him, turning to Cordelia’s stereo system. 

“All I’m askin’ is that ya trust me,” he said softly. “I know these women and you’re going to have to be a little more hardened to get into their good graces. You’re a sweet person and they’ll eat you alive…literally, if you don’t impress them. Will you trust me, Willow?” 

She stood up, sighing heavily. “I don’t have much choice, do I?” 

“Your vote of confidence is duly noted,” he stated. 

“I do trust you, Doyle.” She smiled weakly. “I’m just not sure I’m up to being the femme fatale.” 

“Don’t worry. With a few lessons from me, you’ll be knockin’ ‘em dead.” 

***

Willow watched skeptically as Doyle proceeded to bump and grind his way across the room. After a few seconds of being entertained by him, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Doyle? Please tell me you don’t want me to dance like that? I mean, I never thought I’d find anyone who danced *worse* than Xander.” 

“I dance just fine, thank ye very much.” He drew himself up to his full height, completely insulted. “Besides, you’re a fine one to talk, actin’ like you don’t know how to dance at all.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Liar.” He strode over to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her up onto her feet. His hands rested loosely on her waist as he slowly rocked forward. Willow responded, pulling away from him, as they began to sway slowly. “Ye see, it’s just like making love, only you do the opposite.” He blushed, refusing to look at her. The words hadn’t been planned; in fact, he’d thought them and tried to say something else just to get the thought of her – sweaty, rumpled and sated – out of his mind. 

Willow’s green eyes widened, slightly surprised. They moved slowly to no music, both of them watching the other without actually sharing a gaze. Suddenly, the CD player started, a sensual tune issuing forth from the speakers. 

“Damn you, Dennis,” Doyle breathed, looking up, unable to stop from catching Willow’s eye. “He’s sort of a romantic ghost.” 

“What does that have to do with us?” She asked breathlessly, unconsciously altering her rhythm so that their movements were mimicking the other, their bodies swaying, moving closer, brushing against one another. Willow’s hand slid off Doyle’s shoulder, moving down to his arm then his hip. 

“Absolutely nothin’.” He stated, matching her movements as well, his hand slipping around her waist. “We’re as far from romance as you could possibly get.” 

“Exact…” Willow stopped, unable to speak with the pressure of Doyle’s lips on hers. Her fingers curled against his hip, holding him closely as they stopped dancing, moving into a much more private embrace. Doyle’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her to him, feeling the brush of her body against his. His tongue swept across her lips, asking for invitation. Willow surrendered, opening her mouth, sucking on his tongue as it penetrated the warmth of her mouth. 

Pulling her even closer, Doyle pressed her body tightly to his. Willow moaned softly, her whole body tingling from the contact as she finally broke the kiss. Her eyes were wide as they met his. “Did I do that?” 

He brought one of his hands up, pressing his fingertips lightly against her swollen lips. Her tongue darted out, brushing against the warm skin. “You did somethin’,” he admitted. 

Realizing she was still in his embrace – an exceptionally intimate embrace – Willow blushed. She could feel exactly what she’d done. “Oh.” 

Doyle swallowed hard and stepped back. “Well, I…uh…” He cleared his throat. “I think you’ll have no trouble with the…the…uh, tomorrow. I would…well, leave off the last part when you’re dancin’ with the princess, eh?” 

Willow giggled. “You think?” 

“Well, I don’t know that Cordy would appreciate any of it. Although every male in the place watchin’ most likely would.” He took her elbow and guided her toward the guestroom. “Now, go get some rest.” He stopped in the doorway, fighting the temptation to go in. “Sweet dreams.” 

Willow leaned into him, kissing him softly on the cheek. “Night Doyle.” She ducked into the room, closing the door behind her. 

Sighing in relief, Doyle started back to the living room for another night on the couch. Her voice stopped him at the end of the hall. 

“Doyle?” 

“Yah?” 

“When you said every male in the place? Did you mean you and Angel too?” 

An image shot through Doyle’s mind and he knew he had to get her behind a locked door, away from him. “Well, I can’t speak for the vampire, but for myself…I would appreciate just watchin’ you breathe.” Especially if you were struggling to do so, my body over yours and… Doyle cut off his thought and smiled in response to Willow’s embarrassed grin. “Night.” 

“Goodnight.” 

***

Angel looked up at Doyle and barely managed to stifle a laugh. He looked horrible. “What happened to you?” 

The Irishman shook his had and sank down across from his boss. “Rough night.” 

“What did she do to you?” 

“Nothin’. Well, not exactly nothin’, but close enough. I just couldn’t sleep.” 

A small smirk decorated the vampire’s face. “What exactly happened?” 

“I’ll tell you,” Cordelia burst into the office, glaring daggers at Doyle. “I come home at a nice, decent hour…”

“Four AM,” Doyle noted. 

Cordelia ignored him. “And find him,” she pointed meaningfully at Doyle. “Sitting around in his boxers and T-shirt, playing poker with three other demons and watching a porn film!” 

“Which I was pleased to note you weren’t in,” Doyle added. 

Her eyes widened and she took a menacing step forward. Angel got up from his desk and grabbed her shoulders, maneuvering her to the door. “I’ll talk with him.” He shut the door behind her and turned around. “Nothing, huh?” 

Doyle buried his face in his hands. “God, Angel. It took every ounce of willpower I had to stay out of her room last night. And I have little enough of that as it is.” 

“Poker?” 

“I needed to keep my mind busy. And there’s nothin’ better for that than losin’ money.” 

“Porn film?” 

“Just in case she walked out and noticed…somethin’.” 

Angel’s look was skeptical. “Boxer shorts?” 

“Ah, the four of us did that just fer Cordelia’s benefit.” 

“And did Willow see any of this?” 

“Well…”

“Doyle?” 

“When Cordelia started chasing me, I sort of ran into Willow’s room to hide.” 

Angel struggled to control his grin. “In your boxers?” 

“Yah.” 

“After the porn?” 

“Well, the psychotic Cordelia took care of that…particular problem. At least until Dennis tripped me and I landed on top of a certain warm redhead.” He paused. “Dennis, for a ghost, has fine aim.” 

Angel started to say something then stopped. Looking at Doyle, he started again. “What exactly does that mean?” 

“I landed face down on her chest.” Unable to help it, Angel laughed. Doyle glared at him, his cheeks tinged red. “At least it kept her from noticin’ me problem. Which was suddenly back. Full force.” He watched as Angel kept laughing at his expense. “Keep with the chucklin’, boyo.” 

“What…” Struggling for control, Angel tried to speak. “What did Willow do?” 

“She woke up.” 

“And?” 

“And said if I didn’t get off, she was going to make sure the coven got me head.” 

Sensing more, Angel suppressed his grin. “And?” 

“Well, I hadn’t had any sleep, I was fearin’ for me life, as ready as a teenage boy and…”

“And?” 

“And she’d just told me to get off.” 

The vampire’s eyes widened and he sucked in unneeded air. “You didn’t.” 

“So I told her to do that, she would have to let me do more than kiss her.” 

“Kiss her?” Cordelia’s voice came from the now open door. Incredulity was etched on her face. “You kissed her?” 

“It was a mutual thing,” Doyle defended. 

“And what…” Angel snickered. “What happened then?” 

“She kneed me in the groin and ran for the bathroom.” Doyle shook his head. “Which is where the other three demons hid when the prom queen here went on her rampage. She screamed, tried to turn, slipped and knocked herself out.” 

Angel lost the battle and leaned against his desk for support as he laughed. Doyle stood up and paced the office. 

“You know, it really isn’t funny. She’s probably lying there, half-conscious, thinking I’m the biggest pervert in the world.” 

“You left her there? Unconscious?” 

“Not unconscious. Sleeping. I think.” Cordelia shook her head. “Anyway Doyle: One – She knows Xander Harris, so you have competition. Two – you are the world’s biggest pervert, so she’s not far off base.” 

Doyle sighed. “Cordelia? Could you just go away?” 

“Fine.” The wounded look in her eyes didn’t escape the notice of either man, but neither of them went after her. Angel sobered and reached out to catch Doyle’s arm. 

“Let me ask you this, Doyle. And be honest?” 

“A…all right.” 

“What are your intentions when it comes to Willow? She’s not the kind of girl you’re used to.” 

“She’s the kind of girl I married, Angel.” He pulled out of Angel’s grip and headed for the door. “I’m going to go back and try and get her to talk to me. Hopefully I’ll live through the experience.” 

***

Willow looked at herself in the mirror, frowning at the small bump on her forehead. The note taped to the glass did little to make her feel better. As if “Gone to Angel’s” was any explanation for what had happened last night. Sighing softly, she smiled. 

Last night. 

Doyle had kissed her last night. Danced with her and held her, kissed her softly and tenderly and then a little more. 

Shaking her head, she laughed at herself. “You’re going crazy, Rosenberg. It didn’t mean anything.” 

“Didn’t it then?” 

She looked up, surprised to see Doyle’s reflection in the mirror. “Did it? To you, I mean.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket crinkling. “I’m sorry about what happened. In your room. I didn’t mean what I said…well, I did, but not the way it came out…er, happened. I wasn’t tryin’ to take advantage of ya, is what I’m tryin’ ta say.” 

“I know that. Now. Waking up, finding you where you were…are you all right?” She asked with wide eyes, quickly glancing down to her target area. “I mean…I’m so sorry.” 

“Well, Dennis deserves to be exorcised for putting me through it, but I’ll survive. We demons are made of sturdier stuff.” 

“So I saw. Do all demons wear boxer shorts?” 

“Only the green scaly ones, the orange flaming ones and the blue oozy ones. The rest are strictly brief demons.” 

She smiled, her whole demeanor lightening. “It did mean something, right Doyle?” 

“Me real name is…is Francis. Er, Allen Francis.” 

“Francis.” She nodded. “Doyle suits you better.” 

“I thought so.” 

Ducking her head so that her bangs fell in front of her eyes, Willow blushed. “It meant something…a lot of something to me. I haven’t…” She shrugged. “When Oz left, I didn’t feel particularly…anything, other than hurt. It was nice to feel again.” 

“I’m not looking to be someone to take his place,” Doyle stated firmly. “I’ll admit that I like you. Find you incredibly sexy and charming, I’d go so far as to say. But I’m…”

“I’m not looking for someone to replace Oz. Although I wouldn’t mind someone to…to…” She stepped closer, closing the short distance between them. Her hand touched his lips as his had done to hers the night before. “I don’t suppose I could get you to kiss me again? I mean, it’s been a while and if I’m going to make it look convincing with Cordy tonight, I’m going to need a lot more practice.” 

He grinned against her fingertips. “Happy to oblige.” 

“Just one question?” She tilted her head, her eyes glinting mischievously. “What exactly is ‘Galactic Amazon Vixens from Planet Triple X?” 

Doyle’s whole face flamed red. “Uh…”

“Because it was in the VCR. Was that more of my practice?” 

Recalling his favorite scene in the movie, Doyle whimpered. “You want me to kiss you or take you right here in the bathroom?” 

“Let’s start with a kiss, shall we?” 

Dumbstruck, he couldn’t even manage a reply. 

***

There was very little distance between them to start with, so it was easy for Willow to just move into Doyle’s arms. He tilted his head, brushing her forehead with a soft kiss. She smiled, raising her lips to meet his. “I haven’t done this…I mean, really and on purpose for a long time.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you with anything you don’t remember.” Doyle’s breath was soft on her upturned face as he touched the tip of her nose with his. “You’re sure? Because if you’re wantin’ to say no, now would be the best time.” 

“No nos. Not from me.” Willow’s tongue darted out, moistening her lips. “You?” 

“Not in the…” he reeled back, releasing her quickly. His head slammed into the door and he morphed into his demon face as visions lanced through his mind. Willow’s eyes widened, with shock or horror he couldn’t be sure, as he fell to the floor. 

His first thought was to slip back to human. He did so as soon as he could, refusing to look up at her. He fought to get his breath back, trying not to picture her face. 

“Did you…did you want a drink?” 

“No.” He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He ventured a look in her direction. She’d sunk down to the floor beside him and he expected…he wasn’t sure what he expected. But it certainly wasn’t the sight of her, sitting there, her green eyes filled with concern. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Me? No.” She shook her head and reached a hand out, touching his cheek. “Does it hurt?” 

He knew she meant his head, but he deliberately misunderstood her. “Changing?” 

Shrugging, Willow moved closer to him. “Sure.” Her fingers trailed over his face, learning all the contours of it. “You’re poky-er than I expected. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone like you.” 

“It’s just on the face,” he said softly, his breath brushing her hands. “Well, and one other place, but that’s got nothin’ to do with bein’ a demon.” 

Willow giggled, moving still closer. “I’m not afraid of you, you know. Not of what you are.” 

“I’m beginnin’ to realize that.” 

“It’s about time.” She leaned in and brushed his lips with her own. “Do we have time for me to kiss you or was it a pressing vision about me getting my organs removed?” 

“You say the most romantic things,” Doyle pulled her onto his lap, carefully adjusting her so that she wouldn’t feel exactly how much she was affecting him. “Pressing vision,” he nodded. “But there’s always time for you to kiss me.” 

He bent his head; his eyes focused on her parted lips. Licking his own, he moved to press closer to her, capturing the soft, damp pinkness when the bedroom door opened and Cordelia walked in. 

“Are you guys…oh. Ew. Stop it. Not in my house. And not now. Angel wants you both to come to the office. Something big is starting.” She slammed the door behind her, not wanting to watch them disentangle themselves from each other. 

“Something big is starting,” Willow whispered, not talking about Angel’s dire warning at all. 

Doyle nodded, an impish grin on his face. “That it is.” 

***

Cordelia rolled her eyes in Angel’s direction as she led the way into his office. Willow followed her, Doyle close behind. “You owe me extra for that trip. It’s bad enough when he’s being Doyle, but when he thinks he’s being charming?” She shivered. 

“You’re just not used to it,” Doyle stated. “I grow on ya.” 

Angel cleared his throat. “Are you two finished?” They both nodded, sitting in chairs opposite his desk. Willow looked from one to the other then sat on the arm of Doyle’s chair. “Cordelia found this outside the office. I think you should have a look at it.” 

Doyle leaned forward, doing his best to ignore how close she was to him. He took the long, flat, mailing envelope Angel held and opened it. Blood fell from the opening. Willow shivered beside him. “Well, they know you’re here. They know you’re with us.” 

“How?” She asked quietly. All the humor that had buoyed her spirits through the thoughts of upcoming doom faded away. “How do they know so much?” 

“They’ve been watching you, most likely.” Doyle grabbed Angel’s trashcan and poured the blood into it. He knew the smell was getting to the vampire. “And trust me, boss. It’s not wasting, here. This is tainted blood, most likely. Generally, the blood sent to announce the debt is laced with poison or some other such thing. Trying to slow down the victim’s body systems so that she…or he is easier to subdue. It’s a bit easier to cut into someone when they’re not puttin’ up a fight.” 

“I don’t like these people,” Cordelia stated. “I think it’s important that everyone know that.” 

“Good. That will keep you alert tonight at the club. No getting sidetracked by any fancy boy that walks by.” Doyle pulled a piece of bloody jewelry from the envelope. “I promise they’re not worth your efforts.” 

“What is that?” Willow leaned closer, her breath warm on his skin. “Is it a necklace?” 

“Yeah.” Doyle held it up by its chain; his eyes focused on the gem at the center of the delicate filigree design. “It’s the summoning stone.” 

“Summoning stone?” Cordelia asked before Willow could. 

“When you owe a blood debt to this particular group, they call you out. Sometimes there are dreams first, but I seem to have gotten those for her.” He looked at Willow, smiling affectionately. “But then there’s the summoning stone, which, if you stare at it long enough, tells you what your debt is. It’s surrounded by tainted blood, masking its intention. They’re pretty powerful stones; they can hold a world of knowledge in them. If they fall into the wrong hands…with the wrong information on them, you get in a lot of trouble.” 

Willow was staring at the gem, noting how there was no blood on it, despite the package it had come in. “Tonight.” She whispered. 

“What?” Angel looked over at her, surprised she’d spoken. 

“It’s tonight. Well, tomorrow morning at 2 AM. That’s when I’m to meet with them.” 

Doyle’s eyes left the necklace and went to Willow. She looked pale and scared. “Does it tell ya what your debt is?” She started trembling and Doyle tossed the necklace to Angel, catching her just before she fell. Her whole body shook in his hands and he pulled her close. “It’s all right, Doll. It’s okay. I’ve got ya. Tell me what it said.” 

She shook her head, confused. Her green eyes were scared as they met Doyle’s blue ones. “Nothing. Only that I’m going to die.” 

***

Doyle settled Willow down on the couch, sitting next to her and wrapping his arm around her. “You gonna be okay?” 

She nodded. “At least until 2AM.” 

“Angel and I aren’t goin’ ta let anything happen to ya.” 

“I know.” She nodded and looked over at him. “I do know that, Doyle. I trust you.” 

He grinned gently. “Ya. Well, you’re a crazy thing for doin’ that. But I appreciate it.” 

“Will you do something for me?” 

“Ya mean besides save yer life?” 

“Kiss me?” 

He nodded, moving closer. “That, my dear lady, I can do.” 

“And do quite well.” 

Both Willow and Doyle froze at the voice, their eyes moving to where a figure stepped from the shadows. A beautiful young woman stood there, auburn hair cascading down her back in soft curls and brown eyes that reminded Willow of Xander’s, so dark you could lose yourself in them. 

“Hallo, Doyle.” 

“No.” He shook his head, his eyes widening. 

“And you must be Willow.” The woman walked over and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of the couch. “I’m Meredith. Meredith Alexander.” 

“Mere…”

“Although, by all rights, I should be Meredith Doyle.” She grinned in Doyle’s direction as two demons walked up behind him, holding his shoulders to keep him sitting on the couch. “But someone broke a promise to me. And a promise made is a debt unpaid, isn’t it Francis?” 

“Mere…”

“But Francis doesn’t like to pay his debts.” She turned her eyes to Willow. “So he gets someone else to do it for him.” 

“I…I don’t…” Willow looked around, noticing the gathering of women surrounding the couch. “I don’t understand.” 

“The reason you couldn’t read the summoning stone is because the message wasn’t meant for you at all. It was meant for him.” 

Willow looked at Doyle. “Doyle?” 

Her soft, curious voice was like a knife running through him. “The debt…” He looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes as everything became clear. “The debt is mine.” 

“I don’t…”

Meredith smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll explain it all before we take anything you might miss.” Two of the women grabbed Willow and forced her to her feet. “She’s powerful, Francis. You did good.” 

“Meredith…”

“I was worried for a bit that it was going to be the beauty queen upstairs.” She laughed softly, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I should have known better. You were always partial to redheads.” 

***

“You what?!!” Doyle flinched at Angel’s question, both from the content and the volume. “I sort of let the coven take her.” 

Cordelia placed a restraining hand on Angel’s arm. “I’m sure he couldn’t have stopped all of them, Angel.” 

The vampire started to relent until he looked at Doyle’s face. “Doyle?” He lowered his voice to a soft, dangerous level. “What aren’t you telling us?” 

Hunkering down further into his chair, Doyle refused to look at either of his co-workers. “Well, you know how I mentioned that I knew all about blood debts?” 

“Because you’d paid one before?” Cordelia’s question was laced with suspicion. 

“I was supposed to marry this girl. At least, she thought I meant to marry her…” Casting a quick look at their angry faces, he continued, “Mostly because I told her that I was going to…”

“And…” Angel drew the word out as though he was offering Doyle enough rope to hang himself. 

“That was the promise I made. The promise I broke. The debt I owed. The reason I don’t get all too drunk around the ladies no more.” He flinched at their growing annoyance. “I figured, sittin’ there on the damn altar, ‘bout ready to have my heart and liver cut out by the woman who, just the night before, had been swearin’ her undyin’ love, that it would be an easy promise to make and an even easier one to keep.” 

“What. Promise. Doyle?” 

He’d never heard Angel use such a harsh, clipped tone. “I swore that I would sacrifice the next woman…to them.” 

Cordelia shook her head. “As resistible as I find your charms, even I find it hard to believe you haven’t been with a woman in all this time.” 

Doyle blushed. “Not the next woman.” He looked away from them both, staring down at his hands. 

“Oh.” Angel’s eyes widened. 

“Oh what?” Cordelia looked at Angel then Doyle, then back again. “Oh what?” 

“Not just the next woman, Cordelia.” Angel tried to explain until Doyle cut him off. 

“The next woman I loved.” 

Cordelia took a step back and leaned against the desk. “Oh.” 

***

“All right.” Angel finally broke the silence that had filled the room. “We have a few hours. I’m going to do a little investigating, specifically around this club. Doyle, see if you can get anything from the summoning stone. Cordelia, call Giles…wait. Don’t. They’ll want to talk to Willow. Email Giles, see if he knows anything about this group.” 

“Okay,” Cordelia nodded as Angel headed for the sewers. As soon as he was gone, she turned to Doyle. “Okay. Dish.” 

“What?” 

“Tell me.” 

“Right.” Incredulity shone from his blue eyes. “I’m supposed to trust Miss Tactless and unburden myself to the most unsympathetic person on the planet?” 

“Do you really love her?” 

Doyle sighed. “I barely know ‘er.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“Yeah. It is. I haven’t had time to love her yet.” He sat silent for a moment, staring down at the necklace in his hands. “Could I? Yeah.” He shrugged and met Cordelia’s eyes. “She reminds me of Harriet. All accepting and loving, curious and vulnerable, strong and vibrant…” He broke off at her look. “What?” 

“You love her.” 

“I do not.” 

“And yet you brought her here.” 

“Was there a particular reason you thought I needed to be reminded of that?” 

She shrugged. “I’m just having trouble with that part of it.” 

“Well, the visions aren’t exactly the clearest of things. I didn’t actually know it had anything to do with me when I went after her.” He picked up the summoning stone from where it lay and stared into it. “I never thought Meredith would…”

“That’s the other part I have trouble with. I mean, I buy the whole wife thing. I mean, Harriet was nice and seemed easily deceived by your so-called charms. But this Meredith woman? I mean, two nice looking, fairly smart women and they’ve *both* fallen for you?” Her look of incredulity earned her a sharp look from Doyle. “And now Willow? I mean, come on. This is getting out of hand here.” 

“Thanks for that vote of confidence, Princess.” He turned his attention back to the stone. “It’s got to be here. It’s how it’s done.” 

“What?” 

“Go email Giles. See if he knows anything, like Angel asked. I’ll be downstairs.” 

“But…”

“Cordelia? Please?” 

She nodded, heading for the outer office and the computer. Doyle pocketed the stone and headed for the elevator and the scene of the crime. 

***

Willow moaned as the bonds that held her tightened even more. “It always amuses me when humans get involved with demons,” Meredith had been talking non-stop since they’d reached…wherever they were. “I mean, with all the gorgeous men out there, why go for one that’s got spines or no soul or flaming fingers? Why not find a nice normal guy and settle down?” 

“The normal ones aren’t always as normal as you think,” Willow said softly. 

Meredith’s eyes focused on her and she smiled. “True. You’d know, I suppose, living on the mouth of Hell.” She sat down across from her captive and tilted her head. “You know what the most delicious part of this is? Doyle is sitting there, right now, probably drinking himself into oblivion, sure that this whole thing is his fault.” 

“Isn’t it? I mean, isn’t that what you said?” 

She grinned widely – a little too widely for Willow’s taste and shook her head. “Nope. That’s just icing on the cake. We let him think that you’re paying off his debt so that when the next woman he loves does come along, he’ll still owe, only he won’t be aware of it.” 

“So why…?”

“The Slayer.” The words came out in a vengeful hiss and for a moment, Willow got a look at Meredith’s true face. Seeing her shivering, the older woman smiled. “She’s going to regret ever knowing you, little witch. You’re going to be the death of her. In more ways than one.” 

***

Doyle stared at the stone, trying to will it to tell him what he needed to know. He was actually wishing for another vision, simply to tell him how to save her, how to fix things. Looking over at the bar that Angel was nice enough to keep stocked for him, he realized that he hadn’t had anything other than a vision-induced drink since he’d met Willow. 

“Damn,” he sighed. “I do love her.” Picking up the necklace, he headed back up the stairs to see if Cordelia had found anything. He walked into the main office, watching her as she printed up the response she’d evidently gotten from Giles. “Anything?” 

“A few things. Giles said that the last he’d heard the coven had been dissolved. This might be an offshoot branch run by your little ex-girlfriend. He said,” Cordelia looked down at the sheet of paper in her hand and started reading. “The host party was destroyed when Cluactrious…I think…was summoned forth, rendering them all powerless and…” she swallowed hard. “And I don’t think I like this guy at all.” 

Doyle took the paper from her and read it silently, his face paling. “Christ. That’s not Meredith that’s got her, Cordelia. It’s Cluactrious. And it’s not Willow he wants; it’s her power. Aw hell. Email Giles back and let him know everything – and I mean everything that’s goin’ on. We might need their help. Try and get in touch with the boss man. Tell him to meet me at…” Silence filled the room as he realized that, for all his desire to end this, to save her, to…to be the kind of man who deserved to love her, he had no idea whatsoever as to where she was being held. “Hell.” 

“We have to save her, Doyle. I mean, I’ll admit we aren’t the best of friends, but I don’t think she deserves to die like…” she gestured to the paper and Giles’ typed description of what had happened to the women of the coven. “Like that.” 

He paced the room, twirling the necklace around his finger. After a few moments, unable to come up with a plan, he cursed loudly and slammed the stone against the wall. It shattered into tiny pieces, all of them scattering across the floor of the office. Doyle cursed again, stopped only by Cordelia’s sharp intake of breath. “What?” 

She pointed to the wall where the necklace had hit. Blood ran down the clean white surface, forming words as it flowed south. “What…what does it say?” 

“Doyle.” He smirked. “2 AM. Our place.” 

“Our place?” 

“Call Giles. Find Angel. Meet me at my apartment in a half-hour. We’ve still got some time. And I need to find something.” 

***

Angel winced as Cordelia slammed on the brakes outside Doyle’s apartment building. The half-demon stepped out of the shadows and slid into the car. “All right. We need to go to Macmillan Park.” 

“Why?” 

Doyle glanced into the back seat at Angel, nodding when he saw that he was in full battle gear. “That’s where she is. When Mere and I were dating…we used to end up in the park. We’d spend all our time there, me drunk off me ass and her hangin’ on, tryin’ to keep me on my feet. We laughed a lot. That’s where I asked her if she’d marry me someday. I didn’t expect her to think it was goin’ to be so soon…”

“Where in the park?” Angel looked out the window as the trees seemed to fly past. “I don’t like walking in blind.” 

“She’ll have her by the fountain. There’s a series of sculptures there; one of which would serve as an altar. Willow’s going to be sacrificed and the demon, and Meredith, if she’s still in there at all, is going to absorb her powers, enhancing their own. Then Cluactrious will be able to take the shape of Willow and use her face to fool whoever she wants.” 

“To fool Buffy.” Angel whispered the words, but they seemed to fill the car nonetheless. 

“Yeah. I get the feeling they’re goin’ after your girl.” 

Angel nodded. “What do we have to use against her?” 

“Whatever you brought. I had Cordy ask Giles what we needed to kill the demon.” 

“Salt, terragrum root, willow bark and a big sharp pointy sword.” She managed a grim smile. “The sword actually comes first, but it didn’t have the same dramatic effect the other way.” 

“So we stab it?” 

“Nope. Giles said you have to slice off its head, separate it from the body and then cover the exposed cut with the mixture of the other stuff to keep it from reattaching.” She grimaced and shivered. “He’s going to detach from Meredith’s body most likely. Giles said that you’re going to have to be prepared for that. He said it’s not even close to pretty.” 

Angel grinned quickly. “Giles said *that*?”

“Well, he didn’t quite use those words, but at least my sentence made some sort of sense, which is more than I can say for him.” She sniffed and pulled the car into a parking space on the edge of the park. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“Angel and I go in after Willow. You stay here and mix the herbs together. In about fifteen minutes, come out to the statues.” He pointed to a gathering of rocks not too far from them. “Be careful, Princess.” He turned and looked at her and, for a moment, Cordelia could finally see what all that damned Irish charm was all about. “I don’t want to lose you either.” 

“You guys be careful. The acting world doesn’t quite seem to be ready for my vast talent, so I actually need this job.” She looked at both of them, her fear firmly etched in her eyes. “Don’t let him hurt her?” 

“We won’t,” Doyle assured her, climbing from the car, carrying the bag he’d brought with him. “Angel? You got the sword?” 

“Right here.” He stayed back a bit, knowing that Doyle needed to do this, needed to prove to himself, and perhaps Willow, that he could. That he was still the kind of man a woman like Harriet – a woman like Willow – could fall in love with. 

Doyle opened the bag he was carrying and set it on the ground. He pulled both a short and long sword from it and hefted them both. “I loved Harriet with everything I had in me,” Doyle whispered, knowing somehow that Angel was listening. “But when everything happened, I got scared and I lost the most important thing in my life. I never thought that anyone would ever love me again. When Mere came around, I thought that was it, until I found out that she wanted something more – not just marriage, she wanted me to embrace my demon side and use it to our advantage. I couldn’t do that. Not just because I had trouble with the demon half of me, but because I knew that wasn’t what being a demon was all about.” 

Angel didn’t say anything, simply watched as Doyle stared down at the swords, hiding his eyes from the glow of moonlight and a vampire’s too keen gaze. 

“I thought she was me last chance. I thought, when the beauty queen back there thought I was a waste of ‘er time, that I was doomed to be alone. But that…But Willow seems to see something in me that she likes and I’ll be damned, more so than I already am, if I let her go.” 

“So why are we standing here talking?” 

Doyle looked up, his demon in full effect. “Because if I die doing this, I want you to make sure she knows all that.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He grinned and gestured to the statues. “Shall we help the hopeless?” 

“I prefer rescuing the damsel in distress.” 

“Semantics, my friend,” Doyle whispered as they neared the area, his nose quivering as he searched for her scent. “Mere semantics.” 

They both stopped short as one of the statues moved. Turning slowly, the large gray creature smiled down at both of them. “Hello Doyle.” The demon’s true countenance was hidden, Meredith’s face covering it like a mask, the skin frayed and curling along the edges. “You don’t look happy to see me. I don’t suppose you’d still be willing to give me a kiss.” 

“Where’s Willow?” Doyle asked harshly. 

“You’re too late.” 

“You said 2.” 

“That was for the victory. Not for the sacrifice. She’s so powerful, Doyle. You should drink from her and join me, just as Meredith did.” 

Doyle looked over at Angel. The vampire shook his head, his eyes glowing golden in the pale moonlight. “Where is she?” 

“Dead.” The demon reached out and lifted Doyle off the ground, his hand at his throat. “Just as you’re going to be. You and your little band of heroes.” 

“Not heroes,” Doyle gasped, shoving the longer of his swords into the demon’s stomach. It groaned and loosened its grip, allowing Doyle to swing the shorter sword and sever its hand. He fell away, rolling as he landed, putting distance between them. “Just doing a job.” 

“Right. You were always too much of a joke to be a hero.” Meredith’s voice taunted him. “And too much of a bastard to be much of a joke. How did you always manage to fool the pretty ones, Doyle?” She grabbed the severed arm and held it to the stump, growling as it reattached itself. “Did you get to taste her? Did you get your fill of the little witch?” A bolt of electricity seemed to course through the air, hitting Doyle solidly in the chest. He fell back, struggling to hold on to both swords as he stumbled to his feet. “How does her power feel?” 

“She’s not dead.” 

“She is, Doyle. I killed her. And I made sure she knew that you were the one to blame.” Meredith’s face fell away from the demon’s gray skin and Doyle sighed in relief. It would be easier to kill something he’d never woken up to. “And I want you to know that she’ll be the one to kill you all.” The demon turned and shot another bolt of energy past Doyle, sending it spiraling toward Cordelia who was running quickly up the path. 

Just before it hit her, Angel’s body impacted with hers and they both went tumbling to the ground. Doyle heaved a sigh of relief. “You’re just a two-bit demon, just as Meredith was a two-bit witch. No wonder you need Willow.” 

“I have Willow.” 

Doyle shook his head, looking past the demon into the empty night. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” 

The demon turned as Doyle swung the sword, severing its head and sending it flying toward his co-workers. With the shorter sword, he pierced the creature’s heart as Angel and Cordelia hurried to anoint the pulpy remains. 

Leaving them to it, Doyle hurried around the remaining statues, searching for what his senses assured him was there. The moon shone down on the flat stone table where Willow lay, tied down with makeshift ropes. Moving to her side, he smiled down at her. “The lengths you’ll go to just to get out of dancin’ with Cordelia.” 

Her eyes shone with tears and relief. “I knew you’d come.” 

“Well, of course. You and I have a date.” 

“We do?” 

“Well, you and Cordelia have a date, but I thought, given the new circumstances, you might let her have fun with a few of the guys at the club.” 

“If she’s having fun with a few of the guys what am I supposed to do?” She watched him as he unfastened the ropes with trembling hands then helped her sit up. Her wrists and ankles had red marks on them from where she’d struggled against her bonds but other than that she looked fine. 

“I was thinkin’ you might be willing to spend your time with just one man.” 

“I’m sorry. Angel belongs to Buffy. Nothing is going to change my mind on that one.” She grinned up at him, her green eyes dancing in the soft glow of the moon. 

“Then I guess it’s just you and me.” 

“Does that mean I’m going to get my kiss?’ 

“If you’re lucky.” He helped her down and wrapped his arm around her, guiding her back to the car. “And if you’re good.” 

“If good requires not laughing at you while you dance…”

He kissed the top of her head as they walked, holding her even tighter. “Red?” 

Willow stopped and looked up at him. “Yes, Francis?” 

He shook his head, lowering it until his lips brushed across hers. Willow wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Breaking apart a few breathless moments later, he touched her lower lip and smiled. “Would it be forward of me to say that I think I’m fallin’ in love with ya?” 

“Would it make a difference if it was?” 

“I’ve been pretty forward this entire trip.” 

She grinned back at him, standing on tiptoe to give him another soft kiss. “Then why stop now?” 


	2. Imaginary Grace

Willow settled back against the passenger’s seat of the car, casting a quick glance in Doyle’s direction. He caught her, giving her a grin in return. “I don’t know why I’m smilin’,” he admitted. “I mean, I’m taking you home. To Sunnydale. Which is sort of off limits where the Angel crew is concerned.”  
“You could come alone,” she reminded him.

“Yah. And have a screamin’ vision while I visit?” He reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling it on top of his thigh. “I’m the life of the party, Doll.”

Sighing softly, Willow nodded and closed her eyes. “I suppose you’re right. Now we’re moving into the realm of Buffy and Angel. Love without angst? What’s that?”

Doyle looked over at her quickly. “Love?”

Willow bit her lips and smiled. Opening one eye, she met Doyle’s gaze. “You think you’re the only one here? I mean, I don’t normally offer to watch those kinds of films with just anyone.”

“You’ll not be watchin’ porn!” Doyle squeezed her hand, smiling at the memory of her offer and his refusal. “And I can’t believe for the life of me that I’m bein’ a gentleman about this.”

“Neither can I.” Willow pulled her hand away and giggled, watching his face darken as he glared at her.

“It’s not nice to insult a man when he’s bein’ nice.”

“I just thought it wasn’t nice to insult his manhood.”

“You’ve no idea about me manhood…”

“Yes I do,” Willow nodded, her green eyes dancing. “Dennis was nice enough to send you sprawling…remember?”

“I didn’t touch ya!”

Willow sighed sadly, “No. No you didn’t.” Her pout turned into a full-fledged grin. “But when you got…er, up, I sneaked a peek.”

“You’re a cheeky little witch.” He reached out to catch a lock of her hair, which he played with for a few moments, his eyes watching the road with intense concentration. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I could come down to LA.”

He shrugged, hating the inevitable sinking feeling. Pulling the car over to the side of the road, he stopped it and turned to face her. “Willow…”

She unhooked her seatbelt and faced him as well. “Yes?”

“You know this is impossible, don’t ya? Us? I mean, I’m almost a good 10 years older than you, I’m divorced, I’m half-demon, I’m…”

“I’m in love with you Allen Francis Doyle.” Willow’s resolve face was the stuff of legend and Doyle recognized it immediately. “My parents have been pestering me to accept the car they want to give me so that I can have the freedom every young woman needs so that she doesn’t have to become dependent on the oppressive male society.”

“And that’s a good thing for me?”

“Well, I was thinking I could use it from time to time to come down to LA and be…oppressed by you.”

A smile quirked the corner of his lips as he reached out to touch the smooth curve of her cheek before trailing his thumb along her jaw line. “When I made that promise, the blood debt, I thought I was safe. I never thought I’d find someone that I loved. I mean, I was in love once and who has the right to expect anythin’ more than that?”

“I don’t know if we have the right,” she admitted, ducking her head so that she captured his thumb between her teeth. Kissing it softly, she released it, letting his hand fall down to her leg. “But it’s happened…”

“Willow…” he moaned her name and moved his hand again, this time wrapping it around the back of her neck, bringing her in to kiss him.

His lips were a glorious combination of hard and gentle, demanding and giving. Willow opened her mouth eagerly, accepting the warm taste of his tongue as it slipped inside, running along the walls of her mouth, tickling and teasing, tasting and tormenting.

After a breathless time, Doyle pulled away, panting hard. His blue eyes were burning into her green ones, need sharp in them. “Sunnydale is a long way off.”

Willow nodded, not caring that they were a half-hour outside of town. “It is.”

“We should stop, rest over night so that we don’t get tired and fall asleep on the side of the road.”

She reached out and touched his lips with trembling fingers, wondering at the heat that filled her. “Please?”

Doyle closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. Pulling away from her touch, he turned back to the steering wheel and blinked hard to focus his concentration. As soon as he heard the click of her seatbelt, he pulled back onto the road, searching for the nearest hotel sign.

***  
Willow bit her lip as she stepped into the darkened room, her hand reaching along the wall, feeling for the light switch. She had just found it when two strong arms slipped around her waist. Doyle’s lips brushed across the hollow beneath her ear. “Don’t.”

“D…don’t?” she breathed.

“No. I want this to be perfect, soft and romantic.” She could feel his grin as he kissed where his words had touched her. “And I’m scared to death that, if you see me in the light, you’re bound to wonder what the hell you’re doin’ in my arms.”

She shook her head and turned in his embrace. “Doyle, I could be making love to you in the sun and I wouldn’t wonder at all.”

“There ya go with the magic again,” he brushed a kiss across her slightly parted lips. “Weavin’ a spell all around me.”

She met his eyes in the darkness, touching his forehead with a gentle hand. “Around us both.”

“Will you let me love you, Willow?”

She nodded, breathless. “In the dark or the daylight, Allen Francis Doyle.”

“What about candlelight?”

She grinned. “I can do that too.”

***  
How he’d managed to procure candles from the front desk, Willow didn’t ask. She didn’t care. All that mattered was, after sitting her down in the chair across from the bed, he’d set up a vast array of them, in various stages of life, and lit them all.

The room now sparkled like a gem, glowing softly in their light. Casting a nervous smile, which she decided was actually fairly sexy, in her direction, he turned on the radio.

“I doubt there’s any Irish drinking song playing, so I’ll settle for something a bit softer, no?” He found a classical station and stopped the dial. Shrugging off his leather jacket, he set it on the foot of the bed. “It’s not exactly dance material…”

Willow stood smoothly and moved toward him. Her eyes were intent on his, glowing with warmth and desire. “Any excuse to be in your arms.”

“You don’t need excuses, Doll.” He wrapped her up in his embrace, barely moving to the music as they lost themselves in the simple touch. “Hell,” he whispered. “You don’t even need an invitation. Any time you want to be here…”

She looked up at him, smiling. One of her hands rested lightly on his chest; the other reached up to touch his lips. “Francis?”

“Ye…yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

The softly whispered plea caught his heart and he nodded briefly before bending his head. His lips found her eager ones, plying them with teasing kisses, deliberately giving her no satisfaction. She growled quietly, her hand winding through his hair, holding him still above her.

“Don’t tease me. Kiss me.”

“Show me how,” he licked her lips, barely touching the swollen pinkness with his tongue.

Willow moaned and brought his head down to her, her mouth opening, her tongue seeking entrance between his lips. Doyle’s arms constricted around her waist, pulling her against him as he gave her free reign of his mouth, letting her explore the dark cavern with the same quiet intensity she seemed to bring to everything she did.

Shivers of desire worked their way through Willow as Doyle pulled her against him, letting her feel, through their layers of clothes, how much he wanted her. Music washed around them as she took a step forward, throwing him off balance.

They tumbled to the bed, a flurry of arms and legs and kisses, laughter bubbling up between them, drawing them closer, rather than farther apart. Willow propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. A playful smile danced across her face. “Whoops.”

“Was that what you intended to happen?”

She shrugged at his skepticism. “I got you onto the bed, didn’t I?”

“You always this forward?”

This time she laughed. “As the reigning champion of being forward, you should know.”

His smile softened and he brushed her hair away from her face. “I was actually hopin’ to have you undressed before we got here. It makes the next bit a hell of a lot easier.”

“Well, I really didn’t do it deliberately…”

“Now, I’m just gonna have to improvise.”

“Oh.” She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds…nice.”

He nodded, running his fingers over her side, his thumb sweeping over the curve of her breast. “Can be.” When she shivered, he leaned in, kissing her softly. “I promise not to hurt you.”

“Doyle…”

He shook his head and guided her back onto the bed. Making sure she was comfortable, he got off the bed and stood at the end of it, staring down at the pretty mess she was. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, looking like small flames dancing about her face. Her sweater was lifted slightly, showing just a glimpse of creamy pale skin. Her jeans fit her nicely, conforming to her slim figure.

He grabbed her foot and held it against his stomach, untying her red tennis shoe. “You couldn’t have worn a skirt or somethin’?” He winked as he said it, wondering if she could see it in the shadows of the candlelight.

“It means more if you have to work for it.”

“You don’t think slayin’ a demon’s work enough?” He dropped the shoe and sock to the floor then lifted the other leg. Holding her this way, both legs off the floor, sent her sweater a little further up her stomach.

“Since you were nice enough to get me in the position of being the sacrifice? Uhm…no.”

He grinned, his conscience eased by her soothing tone. He removed the other shoe and sock then guided her feet back down so that they dangled over the side of the bed. Kneeling on one knee between her legs, he smoothed his hands up her denim-clad thighs before finding the fastener of her jeans. “Well, this is work I think I can handle.”

The button and zipper were taken care of with no problems and he hooked two fingers under each side of the top of the jeans. His eyes sought hers and found nothing but hunger, longing and love there.

“Lift up,” he breathed, unbelieving that this beautiful woman, knowing everything that he was, still loved him. She did as he asked, without question, lifting her hips off the bed so that he could slide her jeans off of her. His breath caught at the sight of her long legs, free of any covering, glowing golden in the light. “Saints above, you’re beautiful.”

She felt the rush of self-conscienceness start to flood through her, but Doyle’s amazed tone pushed any embarrassment away. He was staring down at her, at her legs and her stomach, the pale pink lace panties, in wonder, as if he’d never seen anything like her. “Thank you.”

He nodded, not looking away from her. “I’ve not even imagined…” he broke off, shaking his head. The temptation to lay over her, cover her, be inside her was overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of her. He held out his hand, offering it to her. “Sit up?”

This time it was a question and Willow needed no time to answer it. She took his hand and let him help her sit up. His hands down her arms until he felt the bottom to the soft material of her sweater. Coaxing her hands into the air, he eased it off of her.

His heart felt as if it might explode as the rest of her exquisite body was revealed to him. Her breasts were small, beautifully enhanced by the matching pink bra. He could see the sharp outline of her nipples, hard with anticipation, beneath the cloth, but couldn’t focus on them. Not yet.

Doyle moved off the bed, taking a step back so that he could take all of her in. She was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. Willow tilted her head, watching his eyes. Reaching behind her, she found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, letting the material fall down her arms to the floor.

He gasped softly, inhaling air as he stared at her, enraptured by the sight he’d only dreamed of before. “I’m going to have to stop calling those damn messages from the Powers That Be visions.”

“Why’s that?” She asked soft, getting off the bed to stand in front of him.

“Because you, my darling, are a vision.”

The soft flush invaded her skin, and she seemed to glow in the hazy light of the candles. She bit her lower lip and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. He watched, enraptured, as she slid them down her legs, stepping out of them when they reached the floor. “Doyle?”

“Yah?” He took a step closer, as if caught in some sort of force. His fingers found the buttons of his shirt and he began undoing them, moving closer to her as every one came free. When he reached her, Willow pressed her hands to the center of his chest and parted the material, her fingers grazing over his warm skin.

His hands trembled as they moved to her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles on her body as she ran her finger through the rough hair that covered him. His body swayed slightly as she found his nipples, her fingertips dancing over them ever so lightly.

“Bloody hell, girl. You’re killin’ me.”

“You’ll die happy,” she said with a giggle, scraping her fingertips over the hardened tips before moving her hands up to his shoulders and pushing the shirt off him completely. Moving down his arms, guiding the shirt to the floor, she reached the smooth leather of his belt.

Swallowing hard, Willow let her eyes trail down his chest, her heart hammering in her chest as she memorized the smooth skin beneath the dark covering of hair, forming a dark triangle disappearing into his jeans.

Her hands were shaking, trembling with excitement and nervousness, as she tugged the strap of leather from his belt loops. His whole body was vibrating with need, waiting for her touch. She unfastened the belt and brushed it aside, her fingers meeting the metal of the first button as her eyes met his.

Closing his eyes, Doyle leaned down and kissed her, his lips moving softly over hers. She opened her mouth, tasting his kiss as she tugged the buttons from their homes, opening his fly. Her hands slipped underneath the material and she found his heated skin. Doyle groaned into her mouth as she worked his jeans and boxers over his hips, carefully guiding them over his aching erection, letting them join their other clothes on the cluttered floor.

Naked, they stood in facing each other, their eyes caught in a heated gaze. Doyle raised his hand, stroking her hair back from her face. He wanted to speak, tell her all the things that seemed to fill his chest as he stared at her, but the words wouldn’t come, getting in the way of the intense emotions he was feeling.

Letting his hand run through the fiery strands of hair, he found her shoulder and smoothed his hand over the soft curve. He touched her shoulders, caressing them with shaking hands, moving down to her arms and her hands, finding her waist without looking away.

Willow was having trouble breathing, his look seemed to take her will away from her, leave her helpless in his sights as he held her eyes. He grasped her hips and lifted her, forcing a gasp of surprise as he raised her up into the air.

Doyle wondered briefly when he had died as Willow’s small, full breasts came into view, the dark nipples etched in high relief. Changing his grip slightly, he stopped lifting and pulled her closer, his tongue wrapping around the hard peak, followed by the damp heat of his mouth.

Willow cried out, her nails digging into Doyle’s shoulders as she struggled for control and balance. He walked forward with her, his mouth not stopping in the soft suckling of her skin. She felt the back of her legs hit the mattress and, bending her knees, let him slide her onto the bed.

The only sound in the room was his breath as he pulled away from her, inhaling deeply. In sharp contrast to the silence, the myriad of smells assaulted him, making his heart pound. Willow moved backward on her knees until she was halfway down the bed, then she lay down before him.

Her eyes took him in as the candlelight moved over his skin. His chest was covered with dark hair; his skin pale and smooth as it tapered down from his chest to his hips. His thighs were sprinkled with the same darkness as his chest. She licked her lips as she stared at him, finally looking at his entire body, not letting her eyes shy away from him.

Doyle could feel her eyes when they touched him, could feel the blood rushing south as if it needed to impress her. He grinned just a bit at that thought then looked up to meet her gaze. A smile played at her lips and she dropped her gaze to his waist. “And I just might die a very happy woman.”

He chuckled as he moved onto the bed, making his way easily between her thighs. He lay there, his legs against hers but his lower body not touching her. Bracing himself on his arms, he looked down. “Remind me to thank Dennis when I get back to LA.”

“Doyle?”

His grin told her that she didn’t need to finish the rest of the sentence. His head moved down and he caught her lips with his own, parting them with his tongue as he moved higher on her body, the tip of his erection brushing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

She gasped into his mouth, and he pressed the advantage, deepening the kiss. One hand snaked between them and he found the hard button of her clit with gently eager fingers. Her hips bucked up against him and he pulled back from the kiss in order to find air.

His whole body was rocking with hers, aching to find its way inside her. Her hips moved in rhythm with his hand, teasing the nub with his thumb as a finger slowly caressed the swollen flesh. “Tell me?” he begged quietly as he pulled away, his hand still moving.

She watched him as he leaned back on his knees, resting on his heels, staring down at her. His free hand grabbed his jacket from the end of the bed, digging through the pockets as quickly as he could.

Willow arched up into his touch, her breasts rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for breath. “I…I love you…”

He pulled his hand away, ignoring her cry of protest and fumbled with the packet in his hand. Finally managing to open it, he slid the condom on and moved quickly back between her thighs. “Would that be considered a confession given under duress?”

Her hand found him, guiding him to the warm opening shrouded by soft auburn curls. “Doyle…”

He groaned at her heat as he pressed forward, slipping inside her wet passage easily, whispering her name as he felt her body tighten around his. “Oh Gods, Willow…” He thrust his hips, moving in as deeply as he could, burying himself in the sight and smell and feel of her.

Willow wrapped her legs around his, pulling him closer. She whimpered as he moved within her, wanting him deeper, wanting more. Raising himself up on his arms, Doyle glanced down at her. Her hair was even messier than before as she shook her head from side to side, her body moving in counterpoint, thrusting up against him.

Closing his eyes, taking the sight of her – eyes closed, hair mussed, lower lip caught between her teeth – into his mind, he began moving more rapidly; long smooth strokes that filled her completely before he pulled back, almost separating from her.

She tightened her grip with her legs and he changed his rhythm, shorter strokes at the same speed, never coming close to leaving the warm haven of her thighs. Her hands rested on the curve of his ass, pressing against him with each downward stroke.

Again his thrust changed, slower, harder and deeper. Willow released her lip; licking the marks her teeth had left and raised her head, finding one of his nipples with her eager mouth.

Doyle cried out and thrust hard, grinding his hips against hers as she took him over the edge, her teeth and lips prolonging the sweet torture of his orgasm. Willow bucked up against him and he nodded, slipping his hand between them once again to find her clit.

It was slick and slippery and he ached to move his mouth down to lick it clean. But, not wanting to leave her molten center, he captured it between thumb and forefinger and rolled it gently, still thrusting as he continued to lose himself in her embrace.

Willow caught her breath repeatedly; unable to take in enough air, as Doyle’s hand expertly guided her over the edge. She could feel her muscles clenching around his throbbing arousal as she bathed him in her own warm rush. Her heels dug into the back of his legs as she arched upward, his fingers still working between her thighs until she cried out, begging him to stop.

They collapsed together, Doyle careful not to rest his weight too heavily on her. After a long moment, Willow opened her eyes and looked over at him. The dark blue seemed even more intense by candlelight. “I meant it, you know.”

“I didn’t even say it.”

“You did,” she nodded. “Louder than words.”

He brushed damp hair off of her forehead and leaned it to kiss the glistening skin. The words, whispered against her cooling flesh, sent shivers along her spine. “I love you, my Willow.”

She pulled away and touched his lips with a gentle hand. “But it’s still very nice to hear.”


End file.
